Encapsulated Memories
by lovemeartless
Summary: They say the only thing that can truly end a Nation's immortal life is when they forget and are forgotten. Unrequited love set in W-Academy Hetalia. Mainly FrUK & EnglandxFrance. (Warning: Somewhat Dark & Gothic-Themed)


**Warning:** Human Nations. Possible Unexpected Macabre Ending(?) Possible OOC-ness. Short and Plotless. High School. Somewhat Dark and Gothic-y. Mild Expletive (literally just one).

 **Disclaimer:** Please take the time to read the (lengthy) standard disclaimer on my profile page. It's for _all_ my Hetalia stories, so once you've read it you'll never have to read it again. Cheers!

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Story #179:

 **"Encapsulated Memories"**

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Francis yawned.

Another confession of love. Sometimes it was in the corridors, sometimes in the locker rooms, most of the time in the soccer fields after one of their games, and in the all-too-cliché rooftop.

They were all very sweet and pretty, even sexy at times even if they were rather young. There was a time that it all appealed to him greatly.

But in the last century or so, it just lost its charm and excitement altogether, and he could only bring to mind one reason for that, though it was not entirely logical, nor sane.

For people like him, love was really all about beating forever… reliving _encapsulated memories_.

"Why?!"

Francis' mind was plucked out of his reverie and forced to settle back on her. That had been happening often, getting lost in a bittersweet nostalgia of some sort…

He used to hate it, but then again, there were many things he used to like with a passion too. Such as being chased after and pursued; made to feel beautiful and being surrounded _by_ beautiful. But that sort of beauty never lasted. It was possible to gain wisdom still, after more than a thousand years of living, it seems. He was genuinely surprised that he was still capable of being genuinely surprised.

"Why _what_ , _petite_?" Francis asked, smiling somewhat distractedly.

"Why him!" she replied, voice trembling.

It took a few more seconds before Francis actually drank in the sight of her- and noticed she was near tears. And that she was actually pretty. It just didn't seem to spark his interests anymore.

He was amused by her question, though. They usually cried and ran off or got pissed at him right off the bat. Sure, some of them asked him why. But she asked him specifically, 'why _him_ '. Although Francis didn't recall telling her anything about a ' _him_ '. He did reply to her confession that he was interested in someone else. It was a rhetorical answer; not that he had anyone particular in mind when he said that. (He wasn't exactly clear on that himself in all honesty.)

"I know it's him," she persisted, tears beginning to pool in her eyes but she furiously wiped them away. "Why him? Everybody knows you hate him!"

There was something different about this girl for her to assume so far with the confidence she was exuding now even in the face of a flat rejection.

Francis eyed her intently, before saying matter-of-factly, "I do."

"And everybody knows he hates you back! That's not exactly romantic!" she spat, deep blue eyes blazing.

" _Oui,_ " Francis replied, his expression indiscernible. Then mustering his most practised smile yet, he turns and says simply, "It sounds like you understand perfectly well what everyone does, _petite_."

"No!" She ran and rounded on his retreating form, raising her arms in a gesture of determined stubbornness. " _I saw you two snogging!_ And- and- _and wrestling!_ _At the same time!_ Yes, you- you two were snog-wrestling! Whatever the fuck that is! And I didn't mean to spy but-"

"An' is zhere a point to all zis?"

"I don't understand! How could you hate someone and yet want to kiss him?"

" _Petite_ , you are young. Zhere are many things in zhis world you 'ave yet to understand."

"B-but, you do hate him, right?" she asked tentatively, looking hopeful.

Francis laughed, and even he thought it sounded quite forced. With a sigh, he sidesteps her and lazily strides towards the exit. "You couldz say I love to hate 'im… He iz… _entertaining_ …"

Before he could say anything more she throws herself upon him, her arms snaked around his torso from the back, fingers grasped tightly at his coat.

"I can be entertaining! You can kiss me! Or- or, wrestle with me, or both! Whatever you want!" Her shrill tones shaky and agitated. "And I won't push you away… I promise!"

Francis chose to say nothing, letting her spill her emotions and her tears even if it was ruining his clothes. He had too many experiences by now to know that an emotional woman is not one to be trifled with. _Much less an emotional woman with a desperate crush._

"Please!" she spoke up again when her sobs began to subside. "Love me instead! I'll be good to you… I love you so much, Francis!"

Gently, he unhooked her hands from his tear-soaked coat and turned to her with a smile at the ready, albeit a rather strained one. Not that she could tell.

" _Petite_ , you cannot possibly love me. You don't know me."

"Oh but, _I do!_ "

"I zink, you are mistaken." Francis chuckled. "Young people zhese days use ze word 'love' so carelessly."

"Help me then! Show me! I'll to do anything! Anything at all to prove my love for you!"

Francis' brows furrow at this, " _Cherie,_ love isn't about doing everyzing your lover asks of you. But if you really want to know what it is, let zis be your first lesson in love. _Heartbreak_."

Surprisingly, she didn't call out or beg him to stay. He had made it as far as the metal door leading to the stairwell but his fingers froze on the latch without turning it. He turned swiftly and found his attention on her once again…

The uncharacteristic maniacal laughter that had filled the air didn't seem to have come from the same small and dainty high school girl he had just turned his back to, so he felt the urgency to be sure.

And sure enough, he confirmed what his gut instinct had told him from the start. This was definitely no ordinary high school girl.

"I'm surprised you didn't recognize me right away," she drawled, a heavy English accent now weighed each syllable and a daunting confidence exuding from her that was not there only moments ago. "My dear _Francis._ "

Francis was no longer smiling. "Always a pleasure…

" _Alice_."

Alice Kirland had just finished pulling her hair out of her face and was gathering it up into twin ponytails. She did this with deliberate, painstaking carefulness, all the while not taking her eyes off of her companion, a somewhat crazed unwell smile carved onto her face like a marionette's.

"I must say, that was an amazing performance!" She then straightened her skirt and brought her hands together in mock applause. "You used to fall for that 'cute and helpless' schoolgirl act of mine every time! Could it be, the rumours are actually true?! You're not in love with the Nation anymore but the human himself! Of all the mortal counterparts of our kind, you pick him! Oh, god, the world must be coming to an end!"

Francis let the young woman unravel some more, he had patience to spare. It wasn't an emotional high school girl with a crush he was dealing with now but a demented Nation –an entity on the verge of being effaced from memory. Francis knew the signs. It was a rare phenomenon but it happened, nevertheless. Some disappear forever while some remained.

"I admit, I didn't think I had to talk _that_ much. The Francis I knew always let his hands and balls do all the talking. And to think that I was practically wet with anticipation… I still can't believe you actually rejected me!" She had managed to slink to his side now, circling him idly, running her fingers playfully up his chin, and letting her hands roam his body. Then she pouted right up at his face, eyes darkening. " _I'm offended._ "

The French boy pried himself off of her, his expression perfectly schooled. "I should zink you'd be used to it by now."

"FRANCIS!" she shrieked when he began to walk away. "How could you choose him?! You always chose me before, you know that I'm sexy and pretty, all that you desire! I am the perfect England! _I am everything that he isn't!_ "

Francis' lips tugged upward at that. "I couldn'tz agree widz you more, _petite_."

"Noooo!" She fell to her knees, rivers of diluted mascara beginning to line her face. She gripped and clawed and tugged at the hem of his coat as he tried to pull her off again. "Choose me, please!"

This time when he reached the door, his hands didn't hesitate with the latch, he turned it and pushed through the threshold, ignoring the grating screams.

" ** _Don't you care if I disappear?!_** "

" _Disappear alreadzy._ " Francis muttered.

The door clicked into place just as a body slammed into it with a nerve-racking BOOM.

But Francis Bonnefoy was already on the other side, taking the staircase one leisurely step at a time. By the time the soles of his shoes touch the ground at the very bottom, the enraged banging and blood-curdling screeching from behind the metal door several flights up have stopped dead.

 **The End.**

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 **Notes:**

Just had to get this out of my system. I apologize if you like her and got lost here. I couldn't put warnings with her name or it or it would've spoiled the story. I hope I don't make any fan of hers too angry. (*-*) Sorry if I did.


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